Balls and Walnuts
more than you ever wanted to know
Category Archives: Books ‘n’ Authors
Joke? Crappy editing?
I’m reading Cormac McCarthy’s No Country for Old Men, mostly because I want to watch the movie (big Coen Bros. fan here) but I want to read the book first.
It’s a fun book but it’s really not too deep. Based on my N of 1/2 a McCarthy book, James Crumley has a hell of a lot more to say and he says it with a much less affected style. I don’t like the lack of dialog quotes, the almost complete absence of speaker attribution, the dropped punctuation (McCarthy dont need no stinkin apostrophes!), the sentence fragments, the thick vernacular. Nevertheless, all of those pretentious quirks aside, NCfOM is a fun ride.
But I DIDN’T expect to find, in an otherwise humorless book,
Who must think that he thought that they thought that he thought they were very dumb. He thought about that.
Wow. Pulled me right out of the book. I can’t remember who said it, but there’s an old quote about cutting the “good bits.” I’m sure the author of that quote didn’t mean you should edit out ALL the good bits, but rather, you should cut the bits of which you are particularly, smugly proud. IMO, those two sentences qualify.
In other news: I’m a little over 25K words into my WiP. Not bad for, what? a couple of months of weekend writing? (Yeah, Tammy, I underestimated the word count when I talked to you the other night. Could have knocked me over when I checked it the next day.)
I have mixed feelings about this novel. On the one hand, I think this is some of the best stuff I’ve ever written. On the other, I’m terrified because I don’t know where it’s going. Which is kind of fun-scary in a way, too; I’m looking forward to seeing how this all works out, but I’m afraid I’ll write myself into a cul-de-sac. It’s happened before.
D.
A late SBD: caring
Hey, Beth, here’s another late one for SBD.
This isn’t funny anymore. WHO recommended this Nora Roberts book to me, huh? Fess up. Because this story is pissing the shit clean out of me.
I don’t care, that’s the thing. I don’t care about Cam, who had this privileged life tootling around Europe racing boats and dirt bikes, nailing Eurotrash in his spare time, buying pricey silk thong underwear, and now he’s stuck back in the States honoring a promise to his dead adoptive father who’s like a ghost now, only he (Ghost Dad) never says anything worthwhile, only, “You can do it, I know you can, you’re a Quinn.”
Guess I remember some things. His name is Cam Quinn. Sounds like a junior varsity cheerleader. But the book’s title? So not memorable.
The Something Tides. Rippling Tides? Festering Tides? I don’t know. First in the Chesapeake Saga. It’s a SAGA, for the love of God. That has to be worse than a trilogy, hell, a SAGA must be six seven eight nine books, and I can’t even get fired up about book one.
So. Cam. Adoptive Dad dies, has a Hollywood death which I’ve already bitched about (and oh, I see this one’s called Sea Swept, so I wasn’t even close, unless Random Nautical Title is close), makes his three sons swear to take care of young punk-ass Seth, Dad’s latest acquisition. See, all three of them, Cam, Moe, and Curly, they were all runaways who gravitated to Ghost Dad Quinn the way ferrets gravitate towards empty boxes and closed doors. But Seth, maybe he’s a real Quinn, which would mean Ghost Dad cheated on Mom.
zzzzzzzzzzzz
And there’s this social worker, Seth’s caseworker, and she’s supposed be this fugly librarian-looking chick one moment, hell on wheels the next. Cam has the hots for her, she has the hots for Cam because he looks good doing carpentry shit. I can’t remember her name, either. It took almost two hundred pages for them to end up in the sack and I still don’t feel any REAL magnetism between them, nothing that wasn’t artificially contrived by the author. I DON’T CARE if they shag and I don’t care if they don’t. I don’t care when Manny, Moe, and Cam fight like kids in the car because
zzzzzzzzzzzzz
Getting back to Cam. Why don’t I care about him? Because his life in Europe was shallow, not in the emotional sense (well, that too) but in the characterization sense. Because his desire to get back to his old life is neither interesting nor sympathetic simply because that old life feels and looks like a cheap postcard. Because he has no emotional life. We’re told (insert show and tell lecture here) the only woman he loved was his adoptive mother. But I don’t feel it. I don’t feel anything from Cam, least of all his passion for Ms. Social Worker.
Life’s too short for this. I’m in the mood for romance, and I’d prefer to try out a new writer other than my old standby Jennifer Crusie, but this book is so not worth it. I think I’ll reread that one Crusie novel about the guy who decided to become a detective more or less on a dare. THAT one had feeling. Or Bet Me. That was a good one, too. Both of those books had heroes and heroines I cared about.
Because in romance, if I don’t care about either the hero or the heroine — then what’s the point?
D.
Friday Flickr Babe: Odyssey escapee edition
Steamy Cyclops, originally uploaded by rach_thegoat.
I dunno, maybe I just have a thing for Cyclopean females.
***
I made La Puttanesca recipe which I listed yesterday. WOW. I used twice the recommended amount of red pepper flakes, which made it spicy enough for Karen and Jake. I would have liked it a bit spicier still. I used the full complement of garlic . . . definitely the right thing to do.
Recommended.
***
From PRI The World: vote for the strangest book title of the year.
I Was Tortured By the Pygmy Love Queen is definitely for me*. I must know more! From the Amazon page, I see this one is published by Fem Fist books. Well, that sounds promising. Next, the write-up:
What evils await Captain Henry Mitchell on the island below? A U.S. Navy fighter pilot, he’s forced to abandon his Grumman after battling Japanese Zeros over the Pacific, but soon Japan is the least of his worries. Parachuting into rainforest canopy Mitchell is greeted by a lost tribe of pygmies and their insanely cruel leader, a female, a Caucasian westerner like himself who subjects him to unholy tortures both painful and erotic. How does she control the pygmies to carry out her sadistic punishments against him? What secrets are kept on this island? Secrets which she believes Mitchell has come to take from her? And how does a man deal with being tortured for answers to questions he knows nothing about? One strong man, stripped naked, bound and helpless, versus one female tyrant and her legion of little devils – who will win this battle?
What do you think — should I buy this one just so I can write a fun Smart Bitches Day post?
D.
*If I can stomach the political incorrectness of it all. But Pygmies on a South Pacific island — whaaaat? (Oh — wait — they’re lost. Gotcha.) And apparently it’s a white chick who tortures him. Is that better or worse, from a Political Correctness POV? She “controls” the Pygmies. That can’t be good.
Oh, I’m so confused.
Corn Dog’s Book Meme
Here’s a quickie for you while I make dinner. Or, better yet, read about Corn Dog’s plague of mice. It’s a lot funnier than I make it sound.
Le Meme:
1. Grab the nearest book of 123 pages or more.
2. Open it to page 123.
3. Find the first 5 sentences and write them down.
4. Then invite 5 friends to do the same.
Nearest book? John Gardner’s translation of The Epic of Gilgamesh. My son’s reading it for schoolwork. Here we go:
Column vi
“Enkidu will protect the friend, safeguard the companion:
he will carry his body over pitfalls.
We in our assembly entrust the king to you;
you, in turn, bring him back to us.”Enkidu shaped his mouth and spoke,
saying to Gilgamesh:
“Friend, turn . . .
the road . . .
. . .”
And Gilgamesh said, “Hey. Enki. That doesn’t help much.”
Tagz: how about Darla, who deserves to be memed back, and who certainly has a jillion books nearby; Dean, who probably won’t mind an easy post; Jim Donahue, who probably doesn’t do memes (just guessing, Jim) but I’m curious to know what book he has within arm’s reach; Kate, because Corn Dog forgot to tag her; and Kris, just to see if she still reads me or has put me out of her head forever, sigh.
More later, I hope.
D.
Darla’s Nonfiction Meme
Darla tagged me. Here ya go, babe.
a) What issues/topic interests you most–non-fiction, i.e, cooking, knitting, stitching, there are infinite topics that has nothing to do with novels?
All over the map. Here are some of my recent non-fiction reads:
Understanding Comics by Scott McCloud: I started this last night and is it ever cool. I love the way McCloud deconstructs his art so clearly, so meticulously. I feel like I’m back in Anatomy Lab, watching a prosector do his thing. (Prosector — that’s what we called the folks who did nothing but teach us how to cut up cadavers and not make an unbloody mess of things.)
Crashing the Gate by Jerome Armstrong and Markos Moulitsas Zuniga: Edifying but dull dissection of everything that’s wrong with the Democratic old guard. Hillary’s crash-and-burn vindicates a lot of what the authors say in this book.
Angela’s Ashes by Frank McCourt: The more I think about this series of memoirs, the more they piss me off. Oh, woe is me, I’m an alcoholic shit but none of it’s my fault. You know what? Watch the Four Yorkshiremen skit, imagine they’re all Irish, and you’ll have much the same experience as you would have reading this book and its sequels.
Other nonfiction books I’ve read in the last 10 years include books about Buddhism, Spinoza, Maimonides, Burroughs (William S.), Robert Graves, Peter Cook, and undeciphered languages.
One great little book I really enjoyed: Foreign Devils on the Silk Road, a history of the race by several nations to explore and exploit Silk Road archaeological sites. Highly recommended.
b) Would you like to review books concerning those?
Um, no thanks.
c) Would you like to be paid or do it as interest or hobby? Tell reasons for what ever you choose.
I already review fiction for The Fix, and I’m damned lazy about that. You think I want more reviewing responsibilities?
d) Would you recommend those to your friends and how?
Would I recommend those what? Those books, perhaps? Clarify, please. But, yes, if you’re talking about BOOKS, sure, I’ll recommend a good book whether it’s fiction or nonfiction.
e) If you have already done something like this, link it to your post.
Mmmm sorry no.
f) Please don’t forget to link back here or whoever tags you.
And to get this meme moving, you have to tag 10 people. I tag:
Yeah, fat chance.
D.
Drunken Sunday reviews
Admittedly, it takes more than a couple fingers of Black Bush to get me drunk —
Is that as rude as it sounds, or is that enough whiskey to get me drunk?
I rented Stardust on Net Flix, and we watched it today. Entertaining enough, particularly since Charlie Cox and Claire Danes are so very very attractive and likable in the lead roles, and the gal who plays Charlie Cox’s mom, Kate Magowan, is so very very striking. WHAT BONE STRUCTURE! I’ll let all the young bucks drool over Claire Danes, provided Kate Magowan will share a cup o’ tea with me.
But, yes, I’ll grant that Claire Danes has that thrilling beauty some actresses have. Reminded me a bit of Cate Blanchett circa LOTR.
Good stuff: The goat guy. Michelle Pfeiffer finally looking her age, bwaahaahaaha. The ancient “wall guard” going ninja on Charlie Cox’s ass. Peter O’Toole. All those dead guys. Charlie & Claire. Bob DeNiro, even if it might not be entirely politically correct to laugh at this stuff.
Not so good stuff: the ending. How TOUGH would it have been to set up Yvaine’s Special Power, rather than drop it in our laps at the very end? Great example of deus ex machina, though, which was on our homeschooling agenda this last week. Thanks, screenwriters.
Speaking of Neil Gaiman (upon whose novel Stardust was based) . . .
The Last Thirteen Books
In tonight’s debate, I heard Senator Obama say, “. . . the white thing to do.” Meant to say “right,” came out “white.” Okay, the R/W thing is a common enough lingual slip. But what about when Chuck Todd (on Countdown tonight) said “Hitlery” when he meant to say “Hillary”? Come on — you don’t just accidentally slip Ts into your words.
Weird.
For tonight: here’s a brief look at the last thirteen books I’ve read. (No romance here. What’s up with that?)
Sunday Flickr babe: Writer Victoria Redel
I began by searching Flickr for “writer,” and after ten pages, found this page of photos for Writers Revealed. From that whole set, all those faces, I picked Victoria Redel. Here’s an interview with Ms. Redel. Snippet below the cut.
Damn it.
Terry Pratchett has been diagnosed with early onset Alzheimer’s disease.
I don’t talk about him much, but he’s one of my literary heroes. I don’t know anyone who melds humor, action, and pathos as well as Pratchett (e.g., Night Watch, one of his best). This is sad, sad news.
From the man himself, with no shortage of class (linked above):
“I would have liked to keep this one quiet for a little while,” he wrote in a letter headed ‘An Embuggerance’.
. . . . The author said work was continuing on his latest works, Nation and Unseen Academicals, and that there was “time for at least a few more books yet.
“Frankly, I would prefer it if people kept things cheerful,” he continued, saying it was “too soon to tell” if the condition was immediately life-threatening.
“I will, of course, be dead at some future point, as will everybody else. For me, this maybe further off than you think.
“I know it’s a very human thing to say ‘Is there anything I can do?’ but in this case I would only entertain offers from very high-end experts in brain chemistry.”
I wish him the best.
D.